


Badly Timed Proposals

by Adventures_in_Writing



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Asexual Agent Washington, Ficlets, Grimmons, M/M, Tuckington - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-02-19 14:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2392475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adventures_in_Writing/pseuds/Adventures_in_Writing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A collection of stand alone oneshots all with the theme of 'badly timed proposals'. I received this as a prompt over on my Tumblr:<br/>"Tuckington - badly timed proposals? (of any sort, sex, marriage, love, whatever)"</p><p>Tuckington throughout (because that's my main thiiiiing). If you've stumbled into this fic because of Ace!Wash, you'll want the second 'chapter' - I'll add author notes letting you know if Ace!Wash appears in a fic.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Future Cubes

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of stand alone oneshots all with the theme of 'badly timed proposals'. I received this as a prompt over on my Tumblr:  
> "Tuckington - badly timed proposals? (of any sort, sex, marriage, love, whatever)"
> 
> Tuckington throughout (because that's my main thiiiiing). If you've stumbled into this fic because of Ace!Wash, you'll want the second 'chapter' - I'll add author notes letting you know if Ace!Wash appears in a fic.

"Hey, Wash!!!" Tucker yelled over the sounds of gunfire and explosions. What the fuck was with everyone always attacking them? They weren’t able soldiers or a threat at all. In fact, if no one bothered them, they wouldn’t be doing anything but hanging out in their bases, wherever that was. Tucker was sick of it, an with their dumb luck, anything could happen.  
Washington turned his head towards Tucker. 

"Now is not the time!”

"IF WE GET OUT OF THIS, I’M TOTALLY GONNA—"

The area was suddenly deathly quiet.  
"What the fuck?" Tucker asked incredulously. 

"Future cubes! The cubes of the future!" Donut said helpfully.

"You were saying, Captain?" Wash asked, the tone of his voice even. He kind of didn’t want Tucker to finish that sentence but he also kind of did.

"…High five whoever it is that gets us out of this mess. Yeah! High five, dude!" Tucker raised his hand in Donut’s direction.

"Heck yeah!"  
The lightish-red armoured soldier slapped his hand against Tucker’s.

"Nice save," Washington murmured as he passed Tucker as they went to regroup. 

"Yeah, but everyone knows what I was gonna say. Bow chika bow wow" 

"I don’t!" Caboose said with a grin. 

Washington clapped a hand on Tucker’s shoulder. “You can explain this one.”

Tucker floundered for the right words.  
"I’ll tell you when you’re older."


	2. The Warthog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Whatever, man. We still know you’re banging Wash. Or Wash is banging you. Small details.”
> 
> Tucker sighed. Well, it probably wouldn’t hurt to tell Grif the truth of it.  
> "You’re all kind of right? We’re not boning though. Wash and I are in a committed, non-sexual relationship." Tucker sounded surprisingly mature when he put it like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grimmons. Tuckington (with Asexual Wash!)

It was a clear day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, Caboose was out somewhere taking Freckles for a walk and Wash was out with Carolina securing the perimeter. The Reds were somewhere Tucker didn’t give a shit about. Tucker could laze the day away for once without anyone bothering him. Well, anyone except for a certain orange soldier. Tucker was quite content to be lazy in Grif’s presence. He was the King of Lazy and even conversation normally proved way too much effort. It was kind of nice every now and again.

For some unknown reason, today was different.

"Everyone knows you and Wash are banging," Grif said, quite suddenly, out of nowhere. The tone he used wasn’t accusatory or mocking. The way he said it was much like every other word that came out of his mouth; bored and not really caring.  
“Where did that even come from?” Tucker asked. It wasn’t a denial, but it wasn’t a confirmation either.

"We’ve got bets going on over at Red base on how long you’ve been at it. My guess is at least two weeks after we found everyone and regrouped. Donut said it was before they were captured; why else would you try so hard to get him back? Sarge didn’t care, though he spouted some nonsense about fraternizing with a superior officer. Can Wash even be called a superior officer? Simmons went bright red and said we shouldn’t poke our noses into your personal life."

"Simmons would be right."

"He guessed you guys got together a couple of nights after we rescued the guys.”

“Aww, fuckberries. Why do you even care, anyway?”

Grif seemingly ignored Tucker’s question and continued.  
“So, who was closest? Oh! And who made the first move? Simmons and Donut say it was Wash, but I know you and what you’re like, so my money is on you making the first move. You can’t pass up an opportunity to get laid.”

“Laid. By. Ladies.”

“Dude, how long are you going to keep that up?”

“Bow chika bow wow.”

“Whatever, man. We still know you’re banging Wash. Or Wash is banging you. Small details.”

Tucker sighed. Well, it probably wouldn’t hurt to tell Grif the truth of it. Besides, everyone had already been betting on it. Not that he particularly cared, though Washington might. It would probably be best to tell them how it was.  
"You’re all kind of right? We’re not boning though. Wash and I are in a committed, non-sexual relationship." Tucker sounded surprisingly mature when he put it like that.

"What?" Grif asked, surprise evident on his face.

"You heard me."

"But…you’re…you…"

"I know."

"Why?" Grif seemed completely confused by the concept.

Tucker shrugged. “Wash isn’t into that. I respect him and his feelings, so we compromise so we can be together. And it’s not bad. Like yeah, banging is awesome, but eeeh, there’s no girls around and, no offence, I wouldn’t wanna bang any of you dudes. I don’t miss it too much. A hand is as good as a fine girl. Less breasts, but what can you do about that?”

"But…what do you do…?"

Tucker blinked. “You mean instead of getting down and dirty? Or how do we get down and dirty? Cos there is no ‘how’. Unless you’re asking specifics about my alone time, in which case, dude, not gonna tell.”

"Well, if Wash isn’t into it…yeah, instead of."

"What do you and Simmons do?"

Grif was silent and suddenly the sky was very interesting. Was that an Oreo shaped cloud in the sky? “I’m sorry I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

"Dude, I’m not an idiot. Besides, you had bets on Wash and me, right? We’ve had bets on you guys getting it on since Blood Gulch."

"God damn it," Grif muttered.

"We hang out. We talk, do drills, go on walks, chill out at the base, that kind of thing."  
He wasn’t about to go into further details. The ‘further details’ were way too mushy and romantic. He wouldn’t admit it to Grif (or anyone else), but his favourite part of the day was when he and Wash were just sitting on the lounge, either leaning against one another with their hands entwined, or someone’s head on someone’s lap and when they went to sleep they’d do so in each other’s warm embrace. Tucker loved it when Washington’s hands traced idle patterns on his back, shoulders, arms and chest. The first couple of times Washington’s hands had drawn patterns over his skin Tucker had almost lost it. It was one hell of a turn on and Tucker had to lay some boundaries; there were some places that Wash just wasn't allowed to touch. And it wasn't because Tucker didn't like it, on the contrary, he liked it a little too much. He revisited that memory quite often in alone time, mimicking the patterns that Wash’s hands had traced.

"That sounds boring."

"It’s not boring when you hang out with Simmons, is it?"

"…I guess not."

"Well, there you go. The only difference between us is that tonight, I’ll be cuddling with Wash and you’ll be making Simmons call out your name. Though I bet Simmons is like, some kind of crazy love God and he makes you cry out his name,” Tucker grinned.

Grif didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t say that Simmons was a love God, but sometimes he did this thing and holy shit…

“Oh my god, I’m totally right, aren’t I?” Tucker laughed. “Holy shit! Simmons is a sex God! Who—”  
“Hey Grif! Can you—” The two soldiers heard a very awkward cough and turned to see Simmons standing nearby. His entire body posture seemed to scream ‘I want to hide in the nearest cavern and die’ but he stood there, staring at them.  
“What did you just say?” He squeaked.

“Knew…You weren’t supposed to hear that,” Tucker said.

“What did you want, Simmons?” Grif asked, completely nonchalant and glad for the distraction. He really didn’t want to answer Tucker’s question. Hopefully asking Simmons why he was here would save the maroon soldier from his mortification.

“Help with the Warthog…” Simmons stuttered from embarrassment.

“Fine,” Grif sighed heavily. He stood, brushing some blades of grass from his armour following Simmons to Red base.

“Bow chika bow wow!” Tucker shouted after them.

“God damn it!” Simmons and Grif shouted in unison.


	3. Do You Want To Play A Game?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Wash could protest, Tucker’s hands were at his shoulders, gently prodding and squeezing.  
> “Oh-ho, holy hell, dude. What have you been doing?”
> 
> “I told you, I was tense.”
> 
> “I can work out some of those knots for you.”
> 
> Wash just gave Tucker a look. “Tucker...”
> 
> Tucker held his hands up in a peaceful gesture. “I’m serious, dude. No ulterior motive, I swear. I’ve got magical hands.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tuckington. And I suppose Caboose/Donut if you stand back from the screen and squint really, really hard. Just something silly.

It had been a hard week. Everyone had been getting increasingly frustrated and tensions were running high. As leader of the blue team, Wash had been under a particularly large amount of stress; anyone who had Caboose for a subordinate would be. The ex-feelancer sat down with a heavy sigh and removed his armour. Leaving it in a pile on the floor, he rolled his neck a couple of times and rubbed his shoulders. He was so stiff! His usual yoga routine helped but his muscles certainly weren’t as elastic as usual. Wash knew himself well enough to know that his back, neck and shoulders were areas that he held tension in. He always had.   
  
Tucker had noticed Wash rubbing at his shoulders and raised an eyebrow.  
“What’s up?” he asked, making his way over to where Wash sat. He leaned over the back of the lounge.  
  
“It’s nothing, Tucker. Just a little tense, that’s all.”  
  
“Dude, you’re _always_ tense.”  
  
Washington let his hands fall, there wouldn’t be anything he’d be able to do. “You know what I mean.”  
  
“Lemme take a look.”  
Before Wash could protest, Tucker’s hands were at his shoulders, gently prodding and squeezing.  
“Oh-ho, holy hell, dude. What have you been doing?”  
  
“I told you, I was tense.”  
  
“Your shoulders are hard as anything. Bow chika bow wow.”  
Wash shrugged Tucker away.   
“I can work out some of those knots for you.”  
  
Wash just gave Tucker a look. “Tucker...”  
  
Tucker held his hands up in a peaceful gesture. “I’m serious, dude. No ulterior motive, I swear. I’ve got magical hands.” Wash’s expression didn’t change.  
“And I don’t mean it like that! I promise, I’m real good. Again, I don’t mean it like that. But, you should know, I actually am real good. And I _do_ mean it like that. Anyway, I used to give Captain Flowers massages all the time. He said it was integral to relaxation.”  
  
That had piqued his interest. Florida had asked Tucker for massages?   
“All right. But only my neck and shoulders.”  
  
“And back,” Tucker said, “I can’t do a good job on the shoulders if I don’t do your back too.   
  
Wash rolled his eyes. “Fine.”  
  
“Just gotta get some oil.”  
  
Wash turned to look at Tucker as he retreated into the kitchen.  
“Tucker!”  
  
He soon returned with the bottle of cooking oil. “What?”  
  
“Is that _really_ necessary?” It was starting to seem like this was all part of some really big plan so that Tucker could get laid. Well, if that's what he was planning, Tucker had a whole other thing coming.   
  
“Dude, have you _ever_ had a massage?”  
Wash was silent.  
“Then shut up. I know what I’m doing. Lay down for me.” The tone in Tucker’s voice was strangely final and Wash couldn’t bring himself to argue the point. Wash stretched out on the lounge and Tucker paused. Shit. He wouldn’t be able to reach properly.  
“...would it be okay if I sort of...kneel...over you?”  
  
Tucker didn’t know why he felt so awkward asking that. If they hadn’t been sharing a bed together already then yeah, fair enough, but he’d been sharing a bed with Wash for a while now, and everyone in the canyon knew they were ‘together’. Wash’s face was a pretty shade of pink as he nodded.  
  
It was kinda cute how shy Wash was.   
  
Tucker settled himself above Wash, his knees on either side of the ex-freelancers legs. He bit back a comment about being a cowboy, or that the view would be much better if Wash was on his back. He poured a little oil in his hands and spread it out evenly over Wash’s freckled skin.  
“Since you’ve never had a massage before...tell me if this hurts too much.”  
  
Tucker knew that Wash was a tough guy, he wouldn’t want a soft touch. Not at all. Tucker ran his hands up along Wash’s spine and out over his shoulders a couple of times before bringing his hands back to Wash’s shoulders.  
  
“What do you mean--ooohhh,” Wash let out a loud groan as Tucker firmly ran his hands over the muscles of Wash’s right shoulder at the exact moment that Caboose entered the base, cheerfully yelling “Agent Washingtub! Do you want to play a game?”  
  
Tucker looked up at his blue team mate, but he didn’t stop what he was doing. He did ease up on the pressure though.   
  
“Oh. It seems you are already playing a game with Tucker. Is it a fun game? It looks like fun. What is it called? Can I play too?”  
  
“Caboose!” Washington yelled.  
  
 “I wonder if Captain Cinnamon Buns will play it with me?” He left before either Tucker or Wash could say anything further, cheerfully calling out to Donut.   
  
Washington could have died of embarrassment. His embarrassment was mostly forgotten as Tucker started working the muscles in his right shoulder again before moving to his left.  
  
Tucker raised an eyebrow at some of the sounds Wash was making. “Dude, how come you’re not this loud when it _actually_ matters?”  
  
“Lavernius!”  
   
  



	4. Broken Scanner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has been waiting for this chance all day. Wash has been particularly tough on him during training this week and it is finally time to give as good as he got.
> 
> Payback has a new name: Lavernius Tucker.

 

* * *

 

He has been waiting for this chance all day. Wash has been particularly tough on him during training this week and it is finally time to give as good as he got.  
  
Payback has a new name: Lavernius Tucker.  
  
Agent Washington is a creature of habit; he follows the same routine every day unless something throws a spanner in the works.  
  
The spanner has a couple of names: Michael J. Caboose or Sarge.

  
Today is no exception and Wash returns to the base after their training session for his shower, just like always. Tucker follows him into the base, not too far behind, and spies the sheet-fort that Caboose has been building for himself and Freckles outside. He looks over the sheet-fort, looking for a very specific item.

And there it is.  A grey, somewhat fluffy towel. Tucker grins and continues into the base, thankful that Washington has completely missed the fort.  
  
Oh, payback is a bitch!  
  
Not that Lavernius Tucker is a bitch. That’s Simmons.  
  
Tucker removes his helmet and goes to get a drink whilst Wash gathers his clothes from their bedroom. As soon as the shower door is shut, Tucker hurriedly strips off his armour. Cautiously, he tip-toes close to the door and listens. The sound of water is running. He counts to twenty before easing the door open. He needs to be fast. Wash doesn’t take very long in the shower – none of the Blues do – and time is of the essence. With stealth that would actually be quite impressive, Tucker sneaks into the bathroom; he silently picks up Washington’s shorts and underwear before quietly leaving the bathroom. Wash is none the wiser and Tucker giggles to himself as he takes a seat on the lounge. He wants a good view for this.  
  
Washington shuts off the water and goes to reach for a towel. He pauses when he finds the rack empty.  
  
“Caboose?” He shouts.  
  
Nothing.  
  
He doesn’t bother calling for Tucker. He will just take things the wrong way and Wash doesn’t want to deal with that right now.  Silently cursing himself for not checking for a towel before he stepped into the shower, he goes to pick up his clothes only to find half of them missing. He frowns, trying to recall if maybe he did only pick up a shirt before coming into the bathroom.  
  
No. He’s certain he picked up...  
  
“Lavernius!” he yells, opening the door a little so he can poke his head out to try and find the little shit.  
  
In the living area, Tucker is biting down on his lip so he doesn’t make a sound. Wash can’t know he’s there, not yet. Tucker hears the heavy sigh as Wash realises he has no other option but to come out of the bathroom dripping wet and pants-less and a wide grin crosses his face. Tucker readies himself. He’ll have to spring out of the way; he knows as soon as Wash spots him, that’ll be it. As predicted, Wash enters the living area, using his shirt to cover himself. His cheeks and ears are pink and his brow is furrowed in the most hilarious mix of embarrassment and anger.  
  
“Lavernius Tucker!”  
  
With a gleeful laugh, Tucker jumps out of range and Wash, despite his lack of clothing, promptly chases after him. The two are far too caught up in their chase that they fail to hear the sound of footsteps entering the base.  
  
“Hey, Wash? Can you repair--”  
  
Tucker and Wash stop in mid-fight. Washington has Tucker by the collar of his under-armour, he’s using both hands, so his shirt is on the floor somewhere. Neither knows when Wash had given up on covering himself.  
  
But now he is sincerely wishing he hadn’t as the purple-clad medic stands in the doorway, clutching his scanner. It seems to be broken.  
  
“Doc?” Washington asks, his voice cracking a little from his embarrassment.  
  
“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” Doc takes in the scene. “You know, it’s really great that you two are exploring your feelings for one another--”  
  
“You should probably go now.” Washington suggested.  
  
“But I hope you’re both being safe and sensible--”  
  
“Doc!” Tucker shouted. “Get out of here!”  
  
“If you ever need anything, just ask. I make sure to keep well-stocked!” he said in a cheery voice as Tucker shoved him out of Blue base. “Ask me any time!”  
  
Washington pulls on the pair of shorts that Tucker has left laying on the floor. His expression is deeply unimpressed.  
  
Tucker sighs. “You know, he wasn’t supposed to come in.”  
  
“You’re sleeping on the couch for a month.”  
  
Tucker supposes it is a fair enough trade. Getting chased around the base by a naked Washington is so worth it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Sneak Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I posted this ages ago. Oops. 
> 
> Asexual Washington makes an appearance.

* * *

Wash liked Tucker, really he did, but he wasn’t all that into the sexual stuff and he wasn’t a big fan of the romantic stuff either (though sometimes it might be nice). Truthfully, Tucker didn’t seem like he’d be into the whole candle-lit dinner and flowers anyway but he knew that Tucker would have certain expectations. Expectations that Wash wouldn’t be able to meet and he wanted to mention it.  
  
Wash had been pondering over it for weeks. He knew what Tucker was like. He knew what he was like. He knew he needed to bring it up, but the question was how?  
  
He was out in the canyon on patrol and his mind had wandered off.  
“So, uh, Tucker… God, I can’t start a conversation like that.” Wash cleared his throat. “Tucker, can I talk to you for a minute?… Now I sound like the world is ending. Hey! Tucker, how’s it going? Nope. Too casual.”  
  
Wash sighed. Everything he came up with was either too serious or so casual that Tucker would think something was wrong. How do you start a conversation? Wash didn’t want Tucker freaking out on him; he definitely wouldn’t be able to handle it.  
  
Finally, Wash managed to figure out what he wanted to say. Well, not exactly, but if he didn’t mention it soon he would find himself in a situation where it would be awkward to bring it up. The pair were sitting on a few crates outside of Blue base when Wash took a breath and decided to chance it.  
  
“Hey, Tucker, look…there’s something I’ve been meaning to mention to you for a little while. I know that you kind of want to sleep with me—”  
  
“Kind of? Dude, you obviously don’t know me that well.”  
  
“Okay, fine. I know that you want to sleep with me but I don’t think—”  
  
“SNEAK ATTAAAAAAAACK!” came the loud battle cry as Sarge burst into the Blue base, wielding his shotgun.  
  
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Wash muttered under his breath.  
  
“Sarge? What the hell, man!?” Tucker shouted.  
  
“Things have been too quiet around here lately. Thought I’d spice up the mood, heh heh.”  
  
“Get outta here! Wash and I are having an important discussion.”  
  
“Have you been listenin’ to Donut’s suggestions?” They could hear the questioning look in Sarge’s voice.  
  
Wash sighed heavily. “Just get out of here, Sarge.”  
  
"I'll be back," he grumbled. "Just you wait you dirty blues..."

The pair waited for the Red leader to be well out of sight. “As I was saying—”  
  
“Dude, we’re cool. Snuggling only.”  
  
Wash smiled. “Thanks, Tucker.”  
  
There was a pause.  
  
“So…could we like, snuggle now? Because I’m totally down for that.”


End file.
